Moving is never easy. Just yesterday I landed in 15-degree weather, managed to check into my apartment building three minutes before their office closed, and lugged two 50 pound suitcases up four flights of stairs. Unpacking is always a hassle, and packing is even worse. Unfortunately, I have a lot of stuff, as my love of shopping makes it especially challenging to fit all of my purchases into two checked bags.

Often times I ponder joining the minimalist movement, it would be a huge weight off my shoulders to let go of all my crap, and live with only what I truly needed. However, this way of life, I realize, does not match my character. I wouldn’t say I’m a hoarder; I always find a way to store my stuff so that it isn’t in piles on the floor, but I do love accumulating beautiful things. I really do value every single piece of worthless thrift garment I collect, and I dread the thought of giving them away. For my last move, I tragically had to give away two suitcases worth of my things, and it did not feel great. My dream of minimalism seemed even scarier now having gone through this emotional first step of letting go.

This latest move was to Washington D.C., for a sixth month internship. However, I came home for two weeks from Boston to San Diego before starting my new life in DC. Attempting to deal with finals, finding housing, and packing up all of my stuff was a stressful occasion. I ended up having to have a friend ship a large box to DC, in addition to flying home with the two 50 pound suitcases and carry on duffle bag I managed to shove all of my clothes and shoes into.

One thing I didn’t realize about moving was how much I had to rely on other people. I am not usually the type to ask for favors, but I realized in moving I would need extra help. All of my kitchen stuff was boxed and given to my roommate’s family friends in Boston, I had a friend take my box to ship and a few other random things back to his house in New York, and I called my parents almost daily to figure out flight plans and housing arrangements. I’m glad I have good enough friends to be able to depend on, I just wish there was a magic storage fairy to deal with all of my stuff for me instead.

Another thing which makes moving all the more difficult is the people you leave behind. My first time moving, ever in my life, was to Berlin for my first semester of college. Although I knew I would build great friendships with the people I met in Berlin, it was not easy to leave my close high school friends behind. Although we all still keep in touch, it is hard to keep up these relationships with people who live thousands of miles away, and who you only get to see twice a year.

This last move was equally as difficult as the first one. Although my Boston roommate and friend since Berlin is living in DC for work as well this semester, the rest of my friends are working in New York City or stayed in Boston. I won’t even be able to see them next semester since they will be working during their fall semester. It sucks to have built strong connections with people you may not see again, or only to meet up with for a few days at a time.

My last conversation with my roommate before we left Boston was about how we should have considered staying close to home. We are both from California, and many of our friends have the luxury of moving via car instead of plane. Both of our sisters are also seniors in High School and looking at colleges, and we urged them to seriously consider distance as a factor in their searches. Although my roommate and I did complain about the process of moving for most of our conversation, I remember thinking how lucky we were to be able to live, work, and study in so many different places. We realized that if we had to stay in the same city for four years we would go stir crazy. Although moving every semester is overwhelmingly stressful, the opportunities and experiences that come with it are more than worth the trouble.